


a friendly rivalry

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Office, Baking, Christmas, Enemies to Friends, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, M/M, Rivalry, also subtle great british bake-off references because i fucking live for that show, because theyre not reallllllyyyy enemies i guess, in a kind of way
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-30
Updated: 2015-11-30
Packaged: 2018-05-04 02:20:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5316854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean and Castiel compete every year in their office’s Christmas bake sale, and this year Dean is determined to win. Written for the Destiel Christmas Mini Bang for the prompt ‘Cookies’.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a friendly rivalry

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote a thing, here is the thing, I hope you enjoy reading the thing.
> 
> P.S. as a British person I think our definition of 'cookie' is different to y'all Americans so I hope I didn't fuck this all up lol
> 
> P.P.S. I plan to write at least one more chapter in this 'verse so look forward to seeing more from these nerds soon!
> 
>  
> 
> [say hi?](http://www.scullsy.tumblr.com)

‘ _Rockin’ around the Christmas tree, have a happy holiday…_ ’

Dean hummed along to Brenda Lee as he wheeled his shopping cart through the baking aisle at his local grocery store. The following day was his office’s annual Christmas Charity Bake Sale and this year he was determined to bake something spectacular – or more accurately, something more spectacular than whatever his colleague Castiel Novak would produce. 

Not that it was a competition or anything, but to Dean it totally felt like one. Every year, he toiled for hours in his kitchen to bake something Christmas-themed and impressive enough to stand out amongst his office mates, and every year without fail, Castiel would put his effort to shame. This year Dean was going back to basics, in a way. He had started planning weeks before the bake sale was even advertised, and had decided to bake Christmas cookies.

Not just any cookies though; he would make several different types, each one with a different festive flavour – cinnamon, ginger, mulled wine – and they would all be painstakingly hand-piped with coloured icing. Dean smiled to himself as he picked a bag of flour off the shelf in front of him. He had a long night ahead of him if he wanted to have everything ready by tomorrow. He knew all his hard work would be worth it, though, when he saw the look on Castiel’s face as he took a bite out of one of his cookies.

Dean threw the bag of flour in his cart, added another for good luck, then pushed the cart in the direction of the dried ingredients aisle, now whistling happily.

‘ _Everyone dancing merrily in the new old-fashioned way!_ ’

-

Once he had all the ingredients laid out on the counter in front of him, Dean was at a bit of a loss as to where he should start. He wasn’t following any recipe, having invented the cookies himself, and in that moment he began to feel the pressure of his own expectations. He looked at the clock: 7:45, plenty of time to reach his target of 108 cookies, so long as there were no distractions.

The phone started ringing. Dean jumped in surprise but answered it straight away, knowing who it was without looking at the caller ID.

“Sorry Sammy, I can’t talk right now,” Dean said, using his free hand to turn on the oven.

On the other end of the line Dean could hear Sam’s amused chuckle as he said, “Let me guess, it’s the bake sale tomorrow.”

“Aw Sam, am I really that predictable?” Dean asked with mock concern, pulling several baking sheets out of an overhead cupboard.

“Well y’know, it’s around this time of year that you always start going on and on about baking this, and Castiel that. Listen, I’ll let you go ahead and bake, but I want to hear all about your little pissing contest with Novak tomorrow, okay?” Sam said. Dean could hear the smirk in his voice.

“It’s not a pissing- Fine. Whatever. I’ll talk to you later, little bro.” Dean hung up, tossed his phone on the counter, and prayed he had bought enough flour.

-

Six hours and two almost-tantrums later, Dean smiled proudly at the dozens of cookies currently laid out on cooling racks, covering every surface in his kitchen. He had to leave for work in just over five hours but that didn’t matter, because he was going to kick Castiel Novak’s ass at the bake sale later that day. He still had half of the cookies left to ice as they weren’t quite cool enough yet, so Dean began tidying the horrible mess he’d made of his kitchen to pass the time.

Dean was particularly proud of the snowflake-shaped cookies, cinnamon-flavoured and complete with a delicate lacy pattern in white icing. They were sure to be a crowd pleaser.

As he prepared a new batch of red icing, Dean’s tired mind wandered to thoughts of Castiel Novak. In all honesty he couldn’t remember when their friendly-verging-on-serious rivalry began, except that it had been going on for several years and always culminated in this bizarre Christmas bake-off, which Castiel invariably (and frustratingly) won. His skills with baked goods, Dean grudgingly admitted, were brilliant, considering he was just an amateur baker working a demanding job as a copy writer.

They were rivals outside of the kitchen, too; Castiel had the same job title as Dean, making them direct competitors in the workplace. They had become well-known throughout the office for butting heads and frequently disagreeing during meetings.

That said, Dean had never really disliked Castiel. It was kind of impossible to hate the guy, with his offbeat sense of humour, wry smiles, and kind eyes. Dean pictured those same blue eyes as he piped the icing onto his last cookie and wondered what they would look like when Castiel tried one of his Christmas cookies, whether they’d widen in sweet surprise or crinkle as Castiel’s whole face smiled at the taste—

Dean shook himself before that thought got out of hand. It seemed staying awake until past three in the morning did funny things to his self control. He cleared his throat and focused on the delicious sight in front of him instead, double-checking that every cookie had been faultlessly iced, and deciding that a light dusting of icing sugar would finish them off perfectly.

-

Dean was embarrassingly nervous as he carried his pile of tupperware boxes towards the large staff room where the bake sale always took place. He was counting on getting there a little early, before the whole office finished for lunch, to set out his cookies without being watched. Of course Castiel had beaten him there and was currently in the process of arranging dozens of perfectly-formed red velvet cupcakes, iced with what looked like vanilla buttercream and topped with (probably handmade) chocolate snowmen. Dean was a big enough man to admit he was impressed, even if he wouldn’t say it out loud.

“Dean,” Castiel smiled warmly when he noticed Dean enter the room, then seemed to check himself and school his features into a more neutral expression. Dean knew the feeling.

“Castiel,” Dean acknowledged before picking a spot on the opposite side of the room to Castiel. Several long tables had been laid out in the room to hold the baked goods that would be on sale. Dean quietly began opening boxes so he could arrange his cookies on the fancy white serving plates he’d brought from home.

Slowly their co-workers began to trickle in, some bringing cakes and cookies, some just coming to peruse that year’s selection. Dean managed to forget that Castiel was across the room as the first of his colleagues tried his cookies, most of them so full of flattering compliments about his baking prowess as to make Dean blush to the tips of his ears.

As the hour drew to a close, Dean surveyed his spread – there were still a good two dozen or so cookies left, enough for him to take over to Sam and his wife Jess later, but the rest had all been sold and eaten, or else taken back to desks for snacking on later in the day.

“May I try a cookie?” Dean was startled by Castiel’s low voice as it asked the question Dean had definitely not been daydreaming about for days. He looked up and saw Castiel standing across the table from him, his own creations abandoned.

Dean nodded, “Of course,” and pointed at his personal favourite snowflake-shaped cookies. “I uh, I recommend these. They’re cinnamon-flavoured.”

Castiel glanced down and picked one from the top of the pile, his fingertips getting covered in icing sugar in the process. Dean’s stomach turned inexplicably as he watched Castiel take a bite and his eyes close while he chewed, a thoughtful expression on his face. They quickly opened again, and Dean’s imagination couldn’t possibly have predicted how blue Castiel’s eyes would look in that moment as his whole face lit up, looking impossibly awed – impossible because it was something Dean had created that made him look like that.

“Dean, this… Did you invent this recipe?” Castiel quickly looked from the cookie to Dean and back again.

Dean cleared his throat. “Uh, yeah. Took me a while but yeah, I did.” He shuffled his feet, embarrassed by Castiel’s scrutiny. It made him forget that there was anyone else in the room.

“You’re incredible,” Castiel blurted, then blushed obviously as he realised what he’d said. “What I mean is – these are incredible. The cookies. That you made.”

Castiel looked down shyly, and as Dean’s insides warmed as he watched the adorable red tinge spread across Castiel’s cheeks, he thought, fuck it. To hell with petty, clichéd office rivalries.

Dean’s stomach swooped and he reached out to gently cover Castiel’s hand, which rested on the table between them, with his own. Castiel looked up in surprise but didn’t move his hand away. “Yeah? Well maybe I’ll show you how to make them sometime.”

Castiel smiled a luminous smile. “I’d like that, Dean.”


End file.
